hold on to me, i'm a little unsteady
by queen caffeine
Summary: She is a storm, and so close to breaking. She reminds herself to breathe, but it's all for naught when he shows up and steals the breath from her lungs. —harry/hermione


**disclaimer: non, mes petites baguettes.  
notes: so i was in a weird mood at 2 am and i was listening to one of my slow music playlists and THIS WAS BORN.  
notes2: i have completely launched myself off a cliff and into the harmony fandom of the wizarding world of harry potter and i have literally no regrets  
playlist: 'Nirvana' by Sam Smith**

 _._

 _._

 _This moment has caused a reaction  
Resulting in a reattachment  
Will you take me to nirvana?_

 _._

 _._

x

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

 _Breathe._

Sweep leg to the right. Arch backwards. Straighten arm. Turn head.

 _Breathe._

The bass vibrates the floor ever so slightly, the drums keeping time with the pounding of her heart. Slow, steady, strong.

Spin twice. Hold arms high. Toss hair. Turn away from the mirror. Throw arms out. Widen stance.

 _Breathe._

The loud music fills the studio, fills her chest, rises and roils within her like the sea in a storm. Because that's what she is. A storm.

Anger, indignation, embarrassment, insecurity, bitterness, all rolling around inside her head. It's hard to focus.

How _dare_ Ron do this to her? How _dare_ he go behind her back, too cowardly to break things off even though his feelings for her were gone? How _dare_ he allow her to see him with another woman, and then just walk away?

She reminds herself to breathe.

Drop to the floor. One leg over the other. Face the mirror. Lean back.

As the chorus hits once more, so do the tears. She doesn't know what to do, what to feel, how to put a stop to it all. She doesn't want to feel like this. Unwanted, unloved, not good enough. She doesn't _want_ to hate herself. But she does.

 _Breathe._

Arch upwards. Snap hands to feet. Roll to a stand. Left half-turn. Palm out in front. Face turned away.

" _You take me, to Nirvana,_ " the sound system drowns out everything save her own thoughts.

She's a storm inside and it's slowly breaking her.

She doesn't hear the knock on the door. She doesn't hear the turn of the handle. She doesn't see the lone figure that stops at the sight of her.

Her movements are too strong; they're forced, harsh, unnatural. She's moving too fast, too much. Tears run down her cheeks and her eyes are blank and unfocused.

She doesn't hear the door close as the person moves into the room. But she does see the lights turn off. Her eyes widen and her breath hitches, her movements faltering in surprise.

And then there's a warm, hard body pressed against her back.

" _Breathe,_ " a gentle voice she knows all too well says in her ear. Habitually, her body relaxes. She can trust him, her best friend through it all. This is familiar. This is safe.

 _He_ is safe.

Large calloused hands slide down her arms, enveloping her smaller hands. Her back is tight against the hard planes of a muscled chest, and his breath fans across the back of her neck.

He moves with her. The harshness becomes soft, the forced aspect of the dance melting away. Her movements synchronize with his almost instantly and she feels his lean muscles flex as he dances with her.

A solo quickly becomes a duet.

Throw arms out. Turn head to the side. His face against her exposed neck. Hands holding hers. Legs lined up. Spin to the left. He draws her back.

The music is loud but the song is slower. The storm in her chest subsides, leaving behind a strange feeling of emptiness. Her cheeks glisten with tears underneath the fairy lights strung around the studio.

He doesn't say anything, and she's glad. She doesn't want to speak. For once, words won't comfort her now. She just wants to feel loved.

He always makes her feel loved, though maybe not in the way she craves.

 _Breathe._

His hands cup her lower back as hers loop around his neck. She leans back as far as she can, him holding her up. Her hair, wild and curly as ever, falls towards the floor and she drops her hands, reaching down and stretching back more. He pulls her up towards him, slowly, delicately, sensuously.

His face is close enough that she can count his dark eyelashes or drown in oceans of green. He spins her around again, pressed against her back once more, and they continue dancing.

The song is on repeat, but she doesn't stop dancing, and neither does he. She doesn't know how long they dance, but she doesn't care. She dances until the pain is gone, she dances until she doesn't feel so empty and bitter. She dances until all she can think about is _him_. Her best friend. Harry Potter himself.

He is safe. He is familiar. He is good.

Right before the chorus swells for the thousandth time, he spins her around in his arms, sliding his hands over her waist and onto her back. Leaning down, he stops with his lips just a hair's breadth away from hers.

She feels lightheaded and impossibly warm. Ron had never given her _this_. He'd never made her feel this way. She has to remind herself to breathe.

He gives her a chance. A chance to turn away, to step back, to say no.

She realizes she doesn't want to do any of those things. She just wants him.

And then, as the music crashes around the two of them and the chorus crescendos, he meets her lips with his own and their entire relationship bends, breaks, _changes_.

She doesn't want him to stop. That storm of emotions becomes a tidal wave of happiness, wonder, love.

Eventually her lips slow against his and he slowly moves backwards, their breaths still mingling. She meets his eyes of green and gold with her own deep chestnut ones, and the way he looks at her makes the breath she had just taken disappear from her lungs.

 _Breathe._

His forehead rests against hers. Messy dark hair tickles her skin. He peppers feather-light kisses on dried tear tracks, and then finally, he speaks.

"You are enough," he whispers to her. "You are worth something. You're worth a hell of a lot to _me_."

She feels like the air has been sucked out of her lungs and her knees weaken. His arms around her don't.

"I have terrible timing, I know, but I can't see you like this anymore." He lets out a shuddering breath. "I love you. _I love you_. I love you so damn much and I want you to be mine. Please, let me heal you like you healed me. Let me help. I want to show you just how heart-wrenchingly beautiful you are to me. I want to show you how you deserve to be treated. Like a queen. _My_ queen." His arms squeeze her before tightening their hold. "Please, don't push me away. Give us a chance, and I swear I will do everything in my power to make you happy. I love you, Hermione."

He speaks to her reverently, voice hushed. He looks at her like one looks at royalty, and the love shining in his eyes makes her feel faint.

She only just manages a small nod. "Yes," she sighs, melting against him. He captures her lips again and the music trails off, fading into silence before starting up again.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

 _Breathe._

 _._

 _._

 **idk, i like it. definitely not as long as my usual oneshots but this one has a different sort of feel to it. let me just say though that i LOVE harry and hermione's dynamic. they're now one of my OTPs, i love them together so much (can you hear me sobbing bc we could have had it all with these two i cAN'T DEAL NO ONE TOUCH ME)**

 **anyway. hope you enjoyed! leave a review to let me know what you think, and i'm also open to new oneshot ideas! ily readers *blows kisses***

 **peace out girl scouts,**

 **queen caffeine**


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